


Just breathe

by TheMusicalCC



Category: Ghostbusters (Comics), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: (It gets better tho), Communication Failure, F/M, Fluff, Mild Angst, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-07 12:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16408814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMusicalCC/pseuds/TheMusicalCC
Summary: She would immerse herself in anything she could to stop herself from paying heed to the thought and eventually convince herself that it was impossible.Except now she can’t because the pregnancy test in her hand reads positive.





	1. Chapter 1

She’s antsy. Not that he would have noticed if he hadn’t caught her wringing her hands as he did the dishes. Yet another one of those habits she encouraged he picked up. Not only because she hates seeing dishes in the sink and hates being the only one doing them even more, but because keeping his hands occupied in something as simple as dishes often gives his mind the necessary room to wander. He had solved more than one puzzle regarding their cases while doing it.

“Is there something wrong?” he asks, finally, remembering that one of the first times he saw her do that was with Vinz Clortho in the room and a sense of impending doom floating over New York. There was a time when Egon wouldn’t have paid much mind to it, but doom seemed to lurk over the city more often than not these days.

She seems a bit taken aback.

“Ah- no, not wrong, I just...” she drifts off, brow furrowed, hands still wringing, and notices his eyes on them, opting for hugging herself instead. Another one of those gestures she does when things are most definitely not OK “I was just thinking”

“About what?”

“Dates, I guess” he invites her to elaborate with a gesture and she continues, seeming reluctant “I’m… um, counting”

He blinks, and Janine seems even more uncomfortable by this. He knows it’s frustrating for her when something that seems obvious escapes his grasp, but she’s normally very patient about it. The fact that she’s not being so tells him this is something crucial. However, she lets out her breath in a huff and turns her back on him rather than giving him an earful, and that throws him off-balance yet again.

“Nothing” she says.

“Nothing?” he repeats.

“It’s nothing. Really- nevermind, it was just a thought, forget about it”

Egon lets it go because he knows if he presses she’s just going to get angry. He forgets about it much sooner than he’d like to admit.

* * *

 She guesses a part of her already knew when she started drawing numbers in her head, dates and symptoms and comparisons. Not possible, she’d often told herself when the thought reared its head into her mind; not possible, I do everything I’m supposed to. The thought would leave for a while and then come back with a curt, matter-of-fact response: So?

To which she had no reply, so she would immerse herself in anything she could to stop herself from paying heed to the thought and eventually convince herself that it was impossible.

Except now she can’t because the pregnancy test in her hand reads positive.

Janine lifts eyes to the ceiling of the firehouse’s second-floor bathroom and lets out a huff that’s half laugh, half sob. Anyone that had tried to tell her some good ten years prior that she would be worried about it being too soon at this point would have been dispatched with a laugh and yet it’s exactly what’s on her mind. It’s too soon. Egon and her have been finally, officially together for a short time, and living together for an even shorter time. That alone makes her want to scream- but there is also the fact that the result of this is that they haven’t really discussed the matter of children and the very real possibility that Egon may not want them at all. What, then? For a moment the walls seem to close in on her but she forces herself to breathe.

“Hey, Janine, did you fall asleep in there?” Peter knocks, tactful as ever, but she’s almost grateful for the interruption. Her mind seems determined to spiral into worst-case scenarios and she really doesn’t feel like it at the moment. Only distractions can help her while she figures what to do. She wraps the little plastic tube in toilet paper before throwing it into the bin, conceals the instruction booklet in her cardigan pocket and tries to not look like she might faint when she opens the door.

Not that it works because when Peter sees her face, he makes what sounds like a half-concerned joke, a grimacing smirk on his face.

“Oof. You look like you’ve seen a ghost”


	2. Chapter 2

Egon can’t help it, his body tenses at the question.

“What do you mean?” it’s his response, a bit more defensive than he’d like, but Winston doesn’t really seem fazed. He continues examining the thrower he’s been cleaning with critical eyes; Egon can’t help but admire the methodical, perfect way Winston disarms, cleans and then puts back together the equipment. Even Ray and himself have some trouble with it.

“Just… she’s been looking kinda peckish lately” Winston says, and only then does he look at Egon, eyes narrowing the slightest “Hadn’t you noticed?”

Irritation thumps in his forehead for a moment. Of course he had...!More or less. His mind wanders back to this morning, when he had stared at her as she downed her tea and fleetingly thought that she looked very pale, that her cheekbones looked a bit prominent and her eyes very tired. He’d thought about asking her if she was feeling well, but quickly reached the conclusion that she would tell him if something were wrong. So he’d said nothing and they had gone about their day the way they always did and he’d forgotten about it until Winston’s question (‘ _Is it just me or does Janine look like she’s coming down with something?’_ ) had stirred the thought awake again.

“Perhaps we should tell her to take the day” he mutters, more towards himself than Winston. Ray and Peter are out on a bust with Kylie precisely because the days have been slow and they can give themselves the luxury of splitting the team, he’s sure they can handle the phones or even borrow Kevin from Peck’s office to look to the desk work if need be.

“Hell, she could take the week” Winston nods “I know I’d take it. Things have been crazy this year” Egon grunts in affirmation but his mind is elsewhere. Thinking about his cake stash at home and how he’s _sure_ he’s been missing some moonpies lately. Where did _that_ even come from? When he jerks his mind back into track, he realizes Janine’s been somehow _off_ for at least a couple of weeks now and yet, despite the occasional prodding on his part, she’s not talking about it. He wouldn’t pay much mind to it, except Janine and not talking about something that’s bothering her are two concepts so removed from each other that it’s almost bizarre.

“How about you leave the cleaning to me and take her for coffee?” Winston suggests, the hint of a smirk on his face “I’m sure she’d appreciate it and you can mention the idea to her then”

“I can’t offer her a vacation week without consulting with Peter and Ray”

“Hah! Tell me another one” Winston chuckles "I honestly doubt they give you hell over that kind of decision. You're looking out for her like you should" Egon hums bemusedly despite himself because that's a very good point actually, but another point rises in his mind.

"It might not be just exhaustion, though"

Winston breathes out through his nose in a manner that tells Egon he  _has_ considered the thought as well and it doesn't please him any more than it does Egon himself.

"I hope it is. "

* * *

She doesn’t go for coffee, he notices, his mouth suddenly very dry for a reason he doesn’t really understand, and he tells himself it doesn’t necessarily mean anything special. She’s been lowering her caffeine intake since Jenny’s death, upon realizing that as a ghost she didn’t really _need_ coffee anymore and yet she was still drinking it like her sanity depended on it. It frightened her, the thought of depending on something so thoroughly that even death doesn’t cure the compulsion for it, so she begun drinking tea instead.

“What’s the occasion?” Janine asks as they take a seat, fingers curled around her cup to warm her hands.

“You seem tired” he says. She waves it off.

“Not much of an occasion, that’s just my life”

“Winston thinks you may be coming down with something” Egon takes a sip of his own drink -hot cocoa, he’s marveled at the way New York seems to think it can overcome the overall bitterness of its inhabitants and streets by putting way too much sugar in their hot drinks and finds himself distantly missing the more subtle, rich taste of the Midwest. The kind of cocoa you can put marshmallows in without feeling like shoveling sugar into your mouth would be pretty much the same- and tries to find a way he can word what he’s thinking without making her angry “I’d like to think you would tell me if it were something important” he doesn’t miss the way her fingers twitch over the mug “But I’m also aware that I’m not… very approachable at times, and perhaps that keeps you from telling me things I should know” her eyes set on him, trying very hard not to look shocked. Ah.

"I... is this about anything in special?"

"You tell me"

“What _exactly_ are you asking?”

He pauses. He could always just out and say it, but he’s not sure of how to word it, so he takes another long sip -another shoveling of sugar- and takes a deep breath.

“Are you… tired of working for us?”

Her jaw drops a little bit. Next thing he knows, she’s laughing. He’s not sure of how what he said is amusing but, then again, he never is.

“Is that what-? I thought-!” she manages between laughs.

When the laughter finally recedes, Janine reaches for his hand. Her fingers are warm on his and she’s giving him _that_ look, the one that’s made something inside him melt in delight pretty much since the times of the Gozer incident. He’s not sure how he ever managed to resist kissing her when she looked at him like that; he’s not sure how he still does.

“Should I take that as a ‘No’?” he mutters. He can’t feel his face.

“I did get a good offer not long ago and yet I declined. Why would I stick around if I didn’t want to, genius?”

“Loyalty. Patience...” he drifts off, uncomfortable, knowing what he’s about to say can either amuse her or anger her and praying it will be the former “...me”

She shakes her head, amused.

“I _have_ told you that my life doesn’t revolve around you, right?”

“You have, yes” not that he’s implying otherwise, but she _has_.

“Besides, it’s not like I wouldn’t see you anymore if I didn’t work with you guys” she leans forward a bit “Unless you’re trying to hint at something here”

“I’m not” he’s relieved, to be honest, even if this solves absolutely nothing regarding the puzzle he’s currently solving “I take it you’re not interested on the week off I was going to offer you, then”

“What-? Not so fast” her smile widens “Is that offer for real?”

“If you want it, of course”

She considers it briefly. Something shifts in her expression, but it’s too fast for him to detect what it is.

“One day- no, two” she says releasing him “It’s all I need”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m not looking forward to the piles and piles of papers you guys would accumulate during a week without me” can't argue with her there. She tries her tea, finding the temperature acceptable “Two days will do”

“Two days” he nods “I’ll make arrangements” he pauses to let her drink for a bit before speaking again, finding his words because it doesn't really escape him that she hasn't actually answered his question “Is… is everything alright, then? Nothing I should know about?”

“No”

She doesn't sound sure of herself, though. Her eyes don’t meet his, either.


	3. Chapter 3

“We’ll call you as soon as the results are available” the nurse tells her. Janine winces as she bends her arm to keep the cotton swab in its place and straightens her back over the chair,

“How long?”

“Tomorrow or the day after” the nurse stares at her for a bit and then takes a look at the expedient before setting eyes on her again, softer “Pregnancy test?”

“Yes” Janine feels self-conscious for no good reason under her eyes. The nurse scribbles something before speaking again

“You nervous, hon?”

She takes a moment to answer because she’s momentarily hearing a part of ‘Matchmaker, matchmaker’ play inside her head _"It’s not that I'm sentimental, it's just that I’m terrified!"_

“Very” is what she concedes.

“Good nervous or bad nervous?”

It’s actually a very good question, one Janine hasn’t asked herself yet. But it’s a no-brainer once she’s made it. She may not be in the midst of a baby-fever like she’s found herself more than once in the past, but children are something she’s longed for pretty much all her adult life. The fact that she’s also finally together with a man she’s loved for years is pretty much a plus. Despite the… well, the whole unplanned factor and that she doesn’t know what Egon will say, she’s… strangely enough, happy. Is that bad? There’s an after-taste of guilt in her joy, the kind she feels when she stays in bed on her days off. It’s delicious but it feels like she's doing something wrong.

“Good nervous” she ends up saying and only realizes she’s smiling when the nurse smiles back.

“Can I let you in on a little secret, then?” when Janine nods, the nurse leans closer to her, eyes on the door, as if fearing interruption “I know those tests are gonna come back positive”

 _Oh_ , Janine thinks. It’s not even an angry or scared thought, it’s… realization. _Oh_.

“Can you tell?” she asks, because now she’s _very_ worried that it’s obvious even at this point “How can you tell?”

“Your eyes. Don’t ask me what it is, the medical explanation is hormones, but I’m not sure about that. There’s just _something_ about some women’s eyes. People call it a twinkle but it’s less romantic, it’s more like… a sadness. Like those big-eared dogs, the ones on the shoe brand logo? You have those eyes right now” Janine wonders if she should be offended, but she’s too relieved for that. It’s exactly the kind of thing Egon would miss “I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. I know your tests are gonna come back positive”

 _So do I_ , Janine realizes. _And_ _I have no idea of how I’m going to tell Egon._

* * *

Whatever it was Ray is saying, Egon completely missed it, so he merely grunts in non-committal, eyes set on the streets in front of them. He knows he should focus on the case at hand or at least the conversation, but his mind keeps wandering elsewhere, and then back to the same thing. Those damn moonpies.

He’s never gotten to the point where he actually keeps count of the contents of his cake stash, not even when it comes to Twinkies, and Janine usually wrinkles her nose at them and grumbles about _just how much sugar those have_ but-

He forces himself to at least try and focus on what Winston is replying to Ray, but the lack of context makes it impossible to understand for him and he easily slips back to his previous line of thought. Why does it even matter, he wonders? It’s not like he’s being… left on reds in regards of his snack count. He’s usually fine with sharing snacks with her, hell, back in the early days of Ghostbusters he used to share candy bars with her all the time. Then why is he so fixated on this?

“We’re here” Kylie points and Ray makes a precarious parking move on the side of the street. For a moment, Egon’s too concerned with being grateful for touching solid ground again to think about his cake stash “Let’s see… oh, boy, anyone else got trouble reading their own notes?”

“Guilty” Winston says.

“More than you’ll ever know” Ray sighs.

“...occasionally” Egon admits reluctantly.

“I guess that’s why Janine usually makes the notes, huh?” Kylie says lightly, plunging Egon back into a spiral of cake-filled thoughts “It says… uh, class 3 full-torso repeater. Wasn’t aggressive until they remodeled”

“Upset because the familiar environment it was used to changed?” Ray asked, peeking over her shoulder.

“Think so. She threw one worker down the cellar stairs. Thankfully he had his helmet on, so he didn’t crack his head open, but he got a twisted ankle and broken wrist out of it”

“Alright, everyone stay alert, we’re going in” Ray motions for the entrance door with a hand motion and Winston, thrower held with the tip aimed away from him or the front, heads in first, followed by Kylie, then Ray and finally Egon. The entrance is too narrow for anything else, either way. The inside of the building smells like wood and paint and Egon almost forgets to scan it, still too immersed in other thoughts. _Damn it, Spengler, concentrate_. The readings point towards a door on the far end of the flat, leading to the cellar. When Winston opens it, the faint sound of weeping reaches them.

“I hate it when they’re sad” Kylie sighs.

“Same” Winston nods before going in, cautiously.

The cellar is, predictably enough, very dark, which allows them to find the entity fairly soon. Glowing a faint greenish blue, she sits on an old chair, a bouquet of ghostly flowers on her lap, shoulders shaking. Three throwers aim at her immediately but Kylie looks scandalized.

“She isn’t doing anything!” she hisses over her shoulder.

“Yet” Egon says.

“What if the worker fell on his own and they reported a harmless spirit?” she insists “What if she’s not a bad ghost?”

Winston sighs.

“Ray, go talk to her”

“What? Why me?”

“ ‘cause Kylie’s got her whole The Craft geddup and she might spook her. Go on”

Ray sighs but steps slowly towards the woman, mumbling about the unlikelihood of ghost being spooked by young women just because they dressed in _black_.

“Good afternoon? M’am. M’am? I’m, uh, Ray Stanz, I represent the city of New York and-”

With a shriek, the woman turns to him, jaw unhinging and eyes bulging out, a slap of air hitting him on the face as he stumbles back and away from her “ARGH! I hate it when they do that. I _hate_ it!”

“Maybe ghosts just don't like you” Winston says.

"I beg your pardon? Have you  _seen_ my girlfriend?"

"Fair enough. Fire!" Winston orders, aiming and shooting. His beam reaches the entity easily. The ghost shrieks again, bouncing against walls, ceiling and floor to get away from the protons. Kylie manages to hit a piano stored somewhere on the far corner, with an almost melodious explosion of ivory, wood and string. Ray draws a squiggly pattern over the wall and most of the ceiling and Egon hits a closet, pieces of torn and charred cloth flying into the air like confetti. Finally, and after much toil, the ghost is captive between four beams.

“Kylie, trap!” Ray calls over the sound of the throwers. She throws with almost mathematical aim and presses the clutch. Always shrieking, the ghost is lowered into the inverted pyramid of light and is swallowed by the trap, flowers and all. Fire ceases.

“Well, that goes to show sending Ray is never the answer” Winston jokes. Ray pretends to throw him the nearby dusting pod still covered in rice powder as Kylie goes for the smoking trap. It takes them a moment to realize that now that the action has ceased, Egon is immobile, brow creased, deep in thought.

“Iggy? What’s wrong?” Ray asks.

“I can’t seem to stop thinking about moonpies” Ray side-eyes him for a moment and then shares a glance with Winston. Winston makes a face as if to say ‘ _Don’t look at me, you’ve known him longer_ ’.

“And?” Kylie invites him to elaborate.

“...am I really _so_ obsessed with junk food?”

He himself isn’t sure of what his tone is, but it makes Winston reach his hand to pat him awkwardly over the shoulder after a short pause.

“Admitting you have a problem is the first step”.

* * *

He doesn’t think of going home early, for whatever reason. Only once he’s in the building after the sun has set does it occur to him that perhaps he should have spent the day with Janine. Isn’t that the kind of thing couples that live together do? He’s not sure of what he could have done for her had he stayed but… surely there would have been something. His brow furrows as he walks down the hallway and towards the door of the apartment. It’s at times like this that he fears he’s never going to be able to do right by Janine the way she deserves, there are just so many things that he feels he should know and yet doesn’t, and she’s been very, _very_ patient but he can’t help but wonder how fair it is to keep asking for her patience.

Egon ponders this briefly before the door, his hand with the key held inches before the lock when the thought about the moonpies comes back and it’s like someone turned the light inside his head on all of a sudden and he realizes what’s bothering him so much about them with a sinking feeling.

Facts, hard and cold facts.

Obviously, no one but Janine could have been eating out of his stash, it’s not like they have any sort of ghost similar to the Sedgewick specimen in the premises. Does that bother him? No, not really. If anything it makes him think to buy twice his usual the next time he stocks.

So far, everything seems perfectly logical.

...except Janine’s taste has always leaned more towards salty treats. Popcorn and chips and pretzels. Salt-water taffy and crackers and even sunflower seeds.Not bad choices, he admits, they are all good snacks, but they certainly _are_ very different from what his preferred ones are. She doesn’t really avoid candy altogether but she really prefers milder tastes, and she certainly isn’t a fan of snacks that consist on sugar over sugar, she’d often comment on feeling cloyed just looking at him eat them.

And yet it’s _obvious_ that she has been eating them, she’s been snacking on something she doesn’t even like. That doesn’t make sense.

Unless.

The word ‘Dysgeusia’ floats up from among his thoughts like some sort of luminous signal just as the apartment door opens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Yes, I know Kylie's suppossed to have a perfect memory but she also apparently pretends to forget things to feel less weird for it))


	4. Chapter 4

She'd heard his keys rattle but nothing going into the lock and after the first couple of minutes she actually fears he's being mugged right outside their apartment. New York. Not as far-fetched as it would be elsewhere.

Instead Egon’s standing there looking like he just realized he left the stove on.

“How long have you been there?” she asks after a small hesitation. His eyes set on her, his mouth opens and closes.

“I… don’t know” he finally says “Five minutes, perhaps”

Those damned sleep habits of his, Janine decides as she moves away to allow him through. They’re finally starting to mess with his brain. He almost forgets to leave his keys in the bowl and walks the same way she does when fresh outta the bed, still half asleep before her morning shower, his eyes distant. He really needs to take better care of himself. Particularly now that-

_Nope, not going there for now._

“I made sauteed chicken for dinner” she says, because it’s either saying something or blowing up at this point “With broccoli and carrots” he hums and she’s not sure if it’s because it sounds good or because it’s a far cry from the take-out he got used to having everyday for years. They’ve been taking turns at cooking and he still depends more on canned stuff for her liking, but it’s better than the chinese, thai and hot-dogs he’d been packing before that “It should still be warm but d’you want me to put it in the oven for you?”

“I’ll do it” he turns to look at her and, again, mouths a bit. His eyes seem to scan her and she remembers the whole ‘Sad dog eyes’ talk with the nurse from earlier, trying to keep herself from getting paranoid about it. Rationally, she knows probably the best way to stop herself from going nuts over this is telling him… realistically, however, she’s convincing herself that pretending nothing’s happening will somehow make it so nothing is happening.

 _Then what?_ She asks herself, seeing him decide against saying whatever he was trying to say to go get his dinner. She can’t exactly keep it a secret forever. For one thing, she’s going to start showing at some point… for another, the existence of the small human being that will eventually make an appearance _would_ certainly catch some attention. What if she’s wrong, though? There’s still a chance that the home tests gave her false positives- Oh, she’s just finding excuses at this point, she knows, but as far as gratuitous excuses go this one is probably still reasonable. Should she wait until the results come? If she’s lucky she’ll have them by tomorrow but if she’s not…

Does she even need the results?

Yes, she reminds herself, gut feelings are respectable and all but this is the kind of news that needs a bit more than that.

Well, can she really keep this up for more than one or two days?

“How was your day?” Egon asks as he helps himself to her cooking “Did you rest?”

“Yeah, I slept in late” it’s not entirely a lie. By her normal standards, half-an-hour later than normal _is_ late “I think tomorrow I’ll just do the laundry”

“If you want to” the microwave’s noise fills the silence that follows his words “I, uh, I would prefer you to take it easy”

Janine can’t help but eye him at this, suddenly sure that _he knows…_ and then promptly reminds herself that as far as he’s concerned she’s just a little under the weather and rest is still a thing she should get.

“It’s… it’s just laundry, Egon” she mutters. Does she really look sick enough that he’s worried she’ll over-exert herself?

“I know, I just don’t want you to spend your days off doing chores” she wants to point out that it’s pretty much what she’s been doing on her days off for years now but the microwave’s cycle reaches its end and Egon carefully takes his plate as he mutters “Perhaps… should I ask the day off tomorrow as well? Stay at home and help you with things?”

“ _No_ ” she replies much too quickly, fearing that when the results do come he may be the one receiving them- and with her luck, it’s what will happen if he stays home “I mean- it’s not necessary, I’m not going to do anything big, just laundry”

“Just laundry” he repeats, his tone unreadable.

“Yes, I can do that on my sleep. I probably will, actually, take naps between cycles” that doesn’t sound so bad, actually. She _has_ been sleepy for most of the day lately “You’d be bored out of your mind within the hour”

“Perhaps, although I could take some work with me, just too keep me busy”

“Then the point of taking the day off would be moot, don’t’cha think?”

He seems to consider it, poking at his food with a fork distractedly and she finds herself realizing how _exhausting_ finding reasons to do what’s needed will be, even for just a couple of days. She really could use some sleep.

“I guess you’re right” he finally says “I would still like you to take the day to relax instead”

“Laundry _is_ relaxing”

“Since when?”

“Since they installed the good chairs on the waiting room” she leans over the table to kiss his forehead softly and he looks up at her with warmth in his eyes and a wave of emotion washes over her, almost too powerful to handle. She’s inches away from just telling him everything- and it’s only sheer panic that he might not be happy that stops her “I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late”

He nods absently but she barely notices, all but running away towards their room.

* * *

Egon does, in fact, stay up rather late. To his merit, it’s probably the first time in a long time that it’s not work keeping him up. He looks at the content of late-night TV without truly seeing it and the hours seem to float by unnoticed by him.

Dysgeusia. He’d first laid eyes on the term during his early parapsychology career, trying to debunk a widely extended misconception that somehow a woman’s reproductive cycles linked to their sensitivity towards paranormal phenomena; and not only is he somewhat surprised that he still remembers it all these years later. He’s frustrated, because in retrospective it seems obvious that Janine has it, as well as other tell-tale symptoms he’s ashamed to admit to not noticing until he thought about it carefully...and where does this data lead? To put it bluntly: Well _duh_.

Janine’s expecting, he repeats inside his head for the upteenth time, just to see if it feels real this time around. It doesn’t. He runs his hand through his hair breathing. The memory of Tiamat’s words, projected into his mind as well as Peter’s, Ray’s and Winston’s (‘ _One born from one of you will be the cause for your dimension’s demise_ ’) replays crisply even against the sound of the TV. Then his mind leaps to the now familiar sight of Janine in the morning with the little round case she calls her ‘Daily dose’ and how she has not skipped even one pill in the time they’ve been together... but also how Dana was taking her own ‘Daily dose’ when she got married to ‘The stiff’ as Peter called him... and yet Oscar Barrett exists.

If he believed in such a thing, he would call it a matter of luck.

But why hasn’t she said anything?!

His first thought is that perhaps Janine does know about Tiamat’s words -a curse, as he’s been thinking of it as of late- but, no. He didn’t tell her and he’s sure none of the guys would tell her either- why alarm her for something that may as well never happen? Peter hasn’t had a proper relationship in years and Egon suspects he never will. Ray’s sentimental partner is a ghost. Winston did try to recover some of what he’d had with the woman who once married him in another reality, and there was some success to that attempt, but he doesn’t _dare_ bring it to a next level again, not when the last time it made her a target.

And then there’s him, who took eon and a half (Peter’s words) to finally pursue an actual relationship with someone who made him fear death for the thought that it would keep him from seeing her again. ‘There’s more to living than breathing’ Marie Laveau had told him and he had pretended not to pay mind to it, but the words returned to him with every too-close-for-comfort brush with death and on the most serious one so far, the one that wasn’t a brush but a full-out frontal collision, he had discovered with a sinking feeling that even if heaven _was_ a place where he could finally free his mind enough to solve the unsolvable, it still seems like an uneven exchange for what he had in life. His friends, his work.

Janine.

She makes him glad to be alive and it had still taken him over a decade to take the step to be with her, so children? They had all very much thought it to be a conversation for another time.

Big mistake.

In any case, if Janine isn’t keeping her pregnancy from him because of Tiamat, the next most logical option is one he somehow dislikes even more: That he did something so wrong that she can’t even talk to him. They’ve been there before, he’s no stranger to what Peter calls ‘Being sent to the doghouse’ and while he doesn’t particularly enjoy it it’s never felt quite this bad. It’s probably because it has never implied her keeping this important from him. It’s twice as maddening because try as he might, he can’t think of anything he might have done that was so wrong- then again, he seems to have some trouble with that. And where normally he would ask Peter or the others, he’s not sure he can in this case, not without revealing Janine’s state. He sighs again. In a sense, he would much rather she yelled at him. Sure it didn’t feel great either but then at least she was upfront and direct and often very clear as to what was bothering her. It was easier to figure what he’d done or said wrong, even if figuring how to make it right wasn’t always as obvious. It makes him so anxious when she doesn’t yell. It often means things are ten times worse than he thought they were.

He keeps his eyes on the screen without seeing and thinks and thinks and thinks...

* * *

Sometime in the very early morning, he dreams.

He’s in his childhood home in Ohio and sun streams into the room that once was his through the window. The crib is white and a mobile composed of an assortment of colorful, plush mushrooms hangs over it. There’s toys in it too and he can almost guess who gave which just looking at them- there’s a dopey dog, there’s a teddy and there’s a Stay Puft. He wonders for a moment where the occupant of the crib would be and he realizes he’s holding them.

He holds no memory of what the child looks like when he wakes up still on the sofa with the TV still turned on in front of him, his neck stiff and his body shivering in the morning chill.

 _I hope you have her eyes,_ he finds himself thinking for a moment, eyes set on the TV absently, then that thought also fades, washed away by wakefulness. The dream feels him in equal parts with dread and longing that he hopes to shed away with a cold shower and some breakfast.

When that doesn’t work, he leaves for the firehouse early.


	5. Chapter 5

Janine’s barely thinking about getting properly dressed to go to the laundromat when someone knocks on the door. Groggily, she puts her tea cup down, wraps her robe tighter around herself and makes her way to the door. She had been expecting a neighbor or a door-to-door salesman or even a girl-scout. Literally anything would have crossed her mind before Walter Peck.

“Please let me in” he says in a hurried whisper, but his urgency escapes her, still half-asleep as she is.

“What are you doing here?” she yawns, before noticing what he’s holding tight over his chest, like some sort of omen that makes her open the door wide and let him in immediately, grogginess gone.

The baby in question is probably a couple of weeks old and the only visible part of him is a small, puffy face, eyes shut and some dribble bubbles forming on the corners of the pursed lips; wrapped in what it takes her a moment to identify as animal pelts, with a soft-looking knitted, royal purple cap around the small head, golden string spelling one singular word: Brannon.

“What _is_ this?!” she half-demands, instinctively keeping her voice down.

“What, do I have to spell it out for you?” Peck retorts in the same tone, but his snark intact.

“Why do _you_ have a baby? Why did you bring a baby _here_?!”

“I thought-” he cuts himself, his cheeks coloring, and Janine realizes that her being a woman was a factor. Jerk. She would yell at him if it weren’t for the baby.

“What happened?” she asks after taking a deep breath and counting to ten.

“He was left on my doorstep this morning” Peck says, looking like he would much rather not give details.

“You’re _kidding_ ”

“I assure you this is far from being a joke, Miss Melnitz” he certainly isn’t laughing “Someone managed to get past my building’s doorman and several security cameras, _unseen_ , just to drop this infant on my doorstep and knock on my door”

“A ghost?” she asks. She can’t find it within herself to be wary of the baby, though. Hormones, maternal instinct or whatever, she can’t. Under her gaze, Brannon stirs, opens his mouth and yawns.

“Someone much more powerful” Peck says between his teeth, scowling openly.

“You know who it was” he looks at her, as if considering her, but ends up shaking his head. He’s lying, obviously, but Janine doesn’t think that part is as important right now “Why _you_ , though?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” his tone isn’t snarky anymore. It’s almost a hiss and it’s almost mournful “This boy is my son”

That makes her stop so suddenly that she half expects to hear tires squealing. She looks at the baby’s face and then Peck’s. She would be lying if she said she didn’t see the similarities, particularly (and hilariously enough) because Brannon’s face seems… grumpy. Almost as though he had been actually born with a scowl upon his face. Adding the fact that Peck seemed to know exactly who had left him on his doorstep, even if he was not going to disclose it to her, she was certain he was right.

“He has your smile” she deadpans. Peck glares at her.

“The visit is not about him” he sighs, his dimming patience evident in his tone. _Like hell it isn’t_ , she thinks, _he’s just too embarrassed to admit that now_ “I am here about your employers’ concern that you are unwell”

She gives him a moment to realize it by himself, but when it’s evident he doesn’t, she says between pauses, her tone escalating with each word.

“You brought… your _baby_ … to the apartment of someone who might… very well be sick with something serious!?”

He seems to realize how _stupid_ a decision that is once he’s heard her paint it that way. He looks at Brannon (Who seems impassible to the fact that his father is a moron, bless his heart) and her alternatively.

“I… I don’t know anyone who babysits and… and I wasn’t sure that leaving him with the cats was the right call” he says, his tone uncharacteristically sheepish.

“Unbelievable” she sighs. Oh well, at least this will keep her from over-thinking herself to death “Alright, come to the kitchen, I’ll make you some tea and then you can wait for me to get dressed. We’ll get him some formula on the way to the laundromat”

“But-”

“I think a friend of Cait’s babysits but you might wanna wait until the kid’s gotten used to you before getting a nanny”

“I- I see-! Wait, but- aren’t you sick, then?”

“Nothing the kid can catch” Janine throws over her shoulder on her way to the bedroom, already mentally listing things Peck is going to need: Diapers, bottles, clothes, towels, shampoo... should she call her sister and ask for advice? She knows plenty about kids just from Cait and Victor's respective infancies, but it's not the same as actually living with a baby. Aaaaand just like that her thoughts are back on her own predicament. Is this a sign? Some sort of divine intervention? Hell if she knows.

But, she thinks, looking at Peck's unusually soft eyes over the face of his infant son, this sure is a look she wouldn't mind on Egon.

* * *

 “So… how’s Janine?” Peter’s question is the equivalent of placing the finger on the sore, except that rather than a finger it’s a red-hot iron. Egon doesn’t dignify his prying with an answer so he insists, stepping closer to him, eyes set distractedly on the view of the city around them “Finally caught something from all those molds you keep in the fridge?”

“My molds are stored far away from the edibles” Egon mumbles sulkily, elbows-deep in the mess of cables that act as the guts for the rooftop ambient meter.

“Right, right”

“...Janine made me move them to the studio”

“Smart woman, I still remember when Ray mistook your fungi sample for icing over a piece of jello”

“I _told_ you, it looked like cream cheese jello!” Ray protests from his spot on the back of the machine, still turning screws.

“I thought you were gonna end up turning inside out like a sock that night”

“It’s not my fault that he didn’t look at the tab-” Egon barely suppresses a startled jolt noticing that Peter’s all but leaning forward, his face inches from him, gray eyes narrowed.

“You’re dodging” he says matter-of-factly, a nervous smile appearing on his face “Why’d she only take two days off? I remember the first time we gave her a week of vacation time, she looked like she could have kissed me”

“She objected to coming back to a mountain of paperwork”

“Jenny hasn’t let any of it pile up” Ray deflected.

“Nevertheless, that is what she said. And that she only needed a couple of days”

“But what for? What has she been doing?”

“Chores, I think” he pauses, realizing by Peter’s expression that he _should_ know more, guilt turning in his stomach at the thought “...today she was going to do laundry”

“I don’t doubt washing your shorts is thrilling to her but is that all?” when Egon doesn’t reply, Peter’s nervous smile falters “Oh, jeez, Spengz, don’t scare me. Is it really that serious?”

His tone makes Ray stop what he’s doing and peer at them over the corner of the meter. Egon’s mouth is dry, but he keeps his eyes on the cables and his expression neutral… at least he _hopes_ his expression is neutral.

“I will not be discussing this”

“Anything we can do to help?” Ray offers. Egon briefly considers quipping about better birth control but he stops the thought on its tracks and not only because it would betray a secret he’s intending to keep at least for now. Responding to a sincere offer for help in a trying time with some crude and dry comment that intends to make clear he’s above receiving help from others? It has the signature of his own father all over it. That alone makes a wave of self-loathing wash over him, keeping his tongue still. No wonder Janine is keeping a pregnancy- a goddamn pregnancy from him, he can really be… like that. Is she simply afraid of how he’ll react? Of what he’ll say to her? Is he really that cruel to her? The thought makes him nauseous.

And there it is, the other reason why children had always seemed like something he shouldn’t have: His father. His _genius_ of a father and his _genius_ thoughts on toys, on displays of affection, public or otherwise, and on achievements. His father that made him fear anything he couldn’t process intellectually like one would fear contracting hemorrhagic dengue. Egon is comfortable with the way he is -most of the time, anyway- but he can’t help but look at Ray, Winston and Peter and realize he was robbed the chance of being any different, of knowing so many of the things it seemed like everyone else was experiencing while he was causing accidental fires or making charts about things others tried not to think about. He didn’t even know that what he felt whenever he thought of it was loneliness until his adult life and that will always make him _furious_. Oh, it had made him smart, although he suspects he would have still been smart without all of that, but it had also made him unhappy- can he really trust himself not to make the same kind of thing to a child of his own? Egon knows what he learned from his own father and most of it consists in things he is not proud of.

But Ray is still waiting for his response and his extended silence has made him nervous, he can tell, so he shoves the thoughts away, tucked in neatly into a closet until the next time he opened the door and they all fell on top of him again.

“I don’t know” he mutters at last. He practically senses Peter and Ray exchanging a concerned look behind his back “Ray, this cable is peeled”

“So that’s the problem!” Ray exclaims, as if to pretend he isn’t letting him change the subject out of pity.

This throws Egon through another spiral of pensiveness, because such tact is characteristic of Ray and he wishes he had just half of it. Ray would know what to say and how. Ray would probably not even be in this predicament to begin with. Then again, Jenny could never be in Janine’s predicament, not... not anymore. Should he ask Ray for advice? The thought that this is something he can’t even share with his closest friend makes him feel oddly dejected. He’s not sure of what his reaction would be, as much as he tells himself Ray is exactly the kind of person who would be happy for them.

Somewhere in the daze of conflicted thoughts that his brain now is, he finds himself remembering his dream and his brow furrows as he struggles to remember the infant- but, aside from the fact that they were baby-sized and in his arms, he can’t remember much. Not the color of their hair or if they even had hair. Not the color of their eyes. He idly tries to imagine Janine’s eyes on an infant and his stomach gives a backflip when he realizes he can and that it’s not an unwelcome thought despite the fact that it makes his hands sweat so much that the plastic gloves are uncomfortable over his skin. Eyes the same color as hers looking up at him from a small face. His mind wanders to the brief portraits of her childhood he’d been able to visualize while trapped inside her mind, when the vikings attacked her, and something like melted caramel seems to extend inside him. He sees himself by the hand of a small not-Janine entering a library, or picking them up at the end of a busy day to put them to bed and he has to stop what he’s doing for a moment, his hands trembling a bit.

Somewhere in his mental rambling he had forgotten that he was just half of the equation, he realizes. Hadn’t even his dream made it so he was imagining a child of his as some sort of duplicate? And yet this offspring… this baby would also be half Janine. And when he thinks about this he can easily see himself caring for them in a way his father would have never been able to.

And that’s already a pretty decent first step, he guesses.

“Hey, Egon, you sure you’re not catching whatever Janine has?” Peter asks. Upon Egon’s wordless, inquiring glance, he adds “You’re looking like you might wanna head home soon”

The statement is followed by a smile-that’s-not-quite-one, that slight arching of Peter’s eyebrows that comes with a curling on the corners of his mouth he’s come to know so well along the years. The intention behind this is unclear for a moment, but then Egon gets to his feet. Ray looks at him and Peter alternatively and seems to catch the meaning in mid-air.

“Yeah, you’re looking kinda peckish, Iggy”

“I believe I might be coming down with something, yes” Egon says, his voice calm even when he’s shaking with the urge to run, run downstairs and then out of the firehouse and all the way to the apartment he shares with Janine.

“Figured as much. Hey, Winston!” Peter calls down the roof stairs “Call Egon a cab, he’s going home!”

“About damn time!” comes Winston reply.

* * *

He's turning the keys in the door when he realizes he hasn't got a plan and panic kicks in. The creaking of the door opening is ominous and heavy in his ears, breaking the apparently complete silence the apartment is in.

"Janine?" he calls, hesitant, half-wishing he'd stayed quiet because he's not sure of what words will come next. When no response comes, he finally steps in, looking around for her. The baskets with freshly laundry greet him in the living room. Where is she then? A quick peek into the fridge confirms what he thought he remembered from the day before, they needed to do grocery shopping urgently. She's probably doing that. But how long has she been out? How much time does this give him? The sink is clear of dishes but dinner hasn't been started with, so she probably went to get the most urgent items only, which would take her around two hours if she's taking her time. How much of those two hours have passed? Based on the fact that when he turns the TV on it's on the channel that was playing jazz bands some good fifteen minutes ago, not long. He breathes easy for a moment before remembering he still doesn't have a plan.

Then his eyes fall on the neatly-folded blankets in one of the laundry baskets, a vague memory of college sparking alive in his brain and suddenly, he does have one.

* * *

When Janine opens the door, Egon’s home.

It takes her a moment to process it because not only is he there, the sofa is turned backwards facing the door and there is what appears to be a tent inside the house. The words for what that is are stuck to the tip of her tongue- she can remember doing it with her sister, very very distantly in the past, before Lucille hit her teens and started thinking of that as a stupid kid thing. The words finally dawn on her mind when Egon timidly shows her a movie he’s holding, his face tense. Blanket fort.

“I was thinking, if- if it’s not a bother” he starts “I would like to spend the afternoon home with you”

She’s too surprised to talk at first and she could almost drop the grocery bag she holds, except there’s eggs in there, she reminds herself. She can hear the microwave cooking something in the kitchen.

“Sure-! Of course!” she finally manages. It’s not that he’s never done anything thoughtful but- it _is_ unexpected and the timing makes her antsy “I… I didn’t know you knew how to make blanket forts”

“It’s not hard” he half-shrugs.

“That’s not what I meant”

“Ray and Peter used to make them to watch movies when we were in College.” she nods, that makes perfect sense. Still doesn’t explain why he’s made one in their apartment but it should get there soon if she gives him time “I...” he fumbles with the rental in his hands “I thought it seemed like something you’d like”

“I do like it!” she hurriedly says just as the microwave beeps and stops, Egon puts the movie down, takes the groceries from her hands and heads for the kitchen “I just… didn’t think you’d be a blanket-fort guy”

“They are rather entertaining to make"

"I mean, yes, but...” the aroma of popcorn reaches her and a sudden hunger makes her groan inwardly “Egon we can’t have just popcorn for dinner”

“I'm making pasta too and there’s still leftover chicken from yesterday” he pauses "I, um, I also made tea. I think it's still hot, if you want some"

“You really planned this out, huh?”

“Not at all” his head peeks from the kitchen for a moment. His eyes are very bright “I’m playing by ear”

"But why?" she doesn't want to be ungrateful but it's all so uncommon, it's really making her anxious.

"I was hoping we could talk"

"Oh" her stomach seems to sink. This is  _so_ not the time, she doesn't feel anywhere near the vicinity of ready to tell him just yet "About what?"

"The guys are worried" he pauses a bit, clears his throat and then says, a bit louder " _I'm_ worried"

She swallows a sudden knot around her throat. Him admitting out loud to how much he cares is still a relatively new thing and it still makes her weak.

"We don't have to... talk if you don't want to" Egon continues slowly, as if figuring every word right before it comes out "But I wanted to be here, if that's OK with you"

All this just to spend some time with her, Janine thinks, and she could cry. Screw everything, she has to tell him today. She leaves her keys in the bowl and takes a breath only to realize she has been keeping herself from thinking about it too much to even know where to start or what to say. So much for that.

“I’ll take a shower first” she says hurriedly, trying to buy some time. Maybe the hot water will help.

“Right now?” he peeks at her from the kitchen, seeming alarmed.

"I'll be quick" that's a good one. Knowing herself she'll zone out for some good ten minutes. He nods, nevertheless.

"Just be careful"

"It's just a shower, Egon" she says already heading for the bathroom, despite the fact that she's touched he's so worried about her.

“But the gravity center in pregnant women is-” he seems to catch himself mid-sentence just as Janine turns to look at him, blood freezing in her veins. His expression would be funny weren't she too shocked to appreciate it “...shit”

“You knew” she’s not accusing him or anything, but he looks guilty all the same. Why is he the guilty one? She's the one who kept it from him... uselessly, it seems “How long have you known?”

“I… put the pieces together only yesterday” he says, sheepish.

“What pieces?”

“The… ahem, the moonpies" his face colors the slightest at this admission and he hurriedly adds "And some other things”

Janine lifts her hand to her hair and takes a breath and before she knows it, she’s laughing, a small, breathless sound that shakes her whole as Egon looks over her in concern, as though he feared he broke her.

“So. Cat’s out of the bag, huh?” she wheezes once she has enough air in her to speak, and immediately bursts into laughter again. Oh, Lord, oh, _shit_. Really, he realized because of his junk food stash? It's so goddamn stupid but at the same time- why the hell not?!

Why is she laughing? What the hell is going on? She doesn’t realize why Egon’s suddenly looking at her with much more pronounced concern for a good minute. Why is her face wet? She bends, hugging herself, the tears staining her face.

* * *

It takes her what feels like forever to calm down, and by then he’s coaxed her onto the sofa and sat next to her, one arm around her, rubbing circles right over her elbow with the tips of his fingers. His other hand rests on her leg. The silence between them feels like everything has come to a pause around them.

“I’m sorry” he says finally.

“For what?” she asks, her voice hoarse with tears still.

“I...” he shuffles his weight, mouthing. Why _is_ he apologizing? “I don’t know, you… you were crying, and-”

She lets out a watery laugh and slaps his side playfully.

“You didn’t make me cry, Egon” he didn’t? Oh, thank goodness “...I guess I just… I’d been so worried about how you were going to take it but you already knew. I think it was relief or hormones or whatever”

“Do you feel better now?”

She lays her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah” she sighs “...what now, Egon?”

"Let's just talk" there really isn't much more they can do right now and they  _need_ to. He doesn't think he can take much more of the places his mind takes him for not knowing.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner" Janine starts.

"Was it... something I said?" she looks at him, brow furrowed in confusion so he elaborates "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" she seems almost offended that he thinks so "No, it was... I don't know! I was confused" she huffs "This all just... happened so fast after so many years of nothing happening, I guess"

"I made you wait too long"

"You're worth the wait" there's a smile in her voice and he sinks into a flustered silence. What he ever did to earn the adoration she has for him, he'll never know "I'm still processing this, Egon, so I guess I just didn't know how to go about it. I didn't know if it would be good news, either- I just didn't know what to do or what to say"

"I can relate to that" he admits "...were you afraid of how I'd react?"

"Yeah" he hopes the hurt doesn't show in his face "I don't always know how to not have a big reaction to things that hurt me, so I was afraid of that too. I was afraid of what I'd act like if you weren't happy" she sighs "I'm not always easy to talk to either and I know it"

He wishes he could reassure her about this but the truth is he agrees a bit.

"I still want to talk to you, even so" is what comes out. Somehow, this seems to be the right response, to his relief. Janine presses closer to him.

"...thank you"

They slip into silence for a bit before Janine lifts her head from his shoulder to look at him.

"So what is our next step?"

“What do you want it to be?”

“I want this” she chuckles, her eyes flashing elsewhere, perhaps because she didn’t need to even think about it “I’ve wanted this for a while. At this point I’d more or less made my mind up that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be so now- I’m happy" she grimaces a bit "Is that bad? That I’m so happy for an accident?”

“Not at all” he squeezes her closer to him. Is it really an accident, though? Or has Tiamat somehow done this- somehow ensured he’d be put in a position where none of his possible choices felt right? He keeps his thoughts from going down that route with a lot of effort.

“But I still don’t know how _you_ feel about this” she tilts her head to the side to get a better look at him “I… I really, really want this, Egon”

“I know” his chest is heavy with this knowledge.

“But I don’t know what you want!” she presses “And it wouldn’t be fair to just… dump this on you if you don’t want it”

 _Does_ he want it? He hasn't stopped to think about that, to be honest.

“What would you do, then?” he asks.

“I… I don’t know...” she sighs and runs a hand through her hair “I’d… I’d do things on my own, I guess”

"Leave?"

"...yes" his stomach sinks at the thought and he can see she’s just as unhappy about it, but she continues “I understand if you don’t want to be part of this, but _I want it_ so much, I couldn’t possibly give it up”

“And if I do want it?”

She pauses for a bit at this, her eyes very wide.

“...do you?”

He considers telling her about Tiamat. About the risk this poses not just to them both but their entire dimension… he can’t bring himself to, not when just talking about how much she wants this child makes her glow. He can’t take this away from her. And he would be lying if he said the idea of a child that is part Janine and part of him hasn't grown on him. The mental images he's had of this small not-Janine are still fresh in his mind and he's already started to treasure them.

And… he looks down at her as she looks at their hands over her leg. Her eyelashes catch the light in a way that never fails to make him just a little giddy.

“I want to stay with you” he whispers.

It really just comes down to that, he guesses. She links her fingers with his over her leg, taking a deep breath.

“What do we do, then?” 

“We stay together” he replies, intertwining their fingers tighter “And we figure this out together”

“Figure it out?” she looks up at him.

“Care for our child” he elaborates “Figure… parenting, out. I’m afraid there is a chance that I will be as mediocre at it as my own father was, but-”

She lets out a breath he hadn’t noticed she was holding, a smile lighting her face. There’s tears in her eyes but this time they don’t make his stomach shrink with guilt. She all but pounces him, arms wrapped around his neck.

“You could never be mediocre” she mutters against his clavicle “You’re wonderful”

Egon’s still so unused to this kind of affection that he just freezes in place for a moment before hugging her back. The thought that a child with that smile would be perfect floats somewhere in his consciousness and he feels almost choked with warmth at the thought. What’s the demise of the entire dimension against that?

Janine lets herself be squeezed for a good while before she reminds him of the blanket fort, which is a bit too small for him to occupy comfortably, but he doesn’t mind as much as he should. _You’ll get better at this_ , she tells him with a breathy laugh as she presses to his side to share the popcorn bowl with the movie he rented -one of the more decent horror flicks he's watched, but then again it’s _Wes Craven_ \- humming in the background, _all it takes is practice. We can practice together_. 

She's not just talking about the fort, he realizes.

She rests her head on his arm contently and he turns to kiss her hair and breathes in her scent. He breathes and breathes and breathes....

* * *

 By the time Egon finishes giving the news, Ray’s face has drained of color, as has Winston. Only Peter seems calm.

“Well, atta boy! _Mazel tov_ , Spengz, and I’ll cross my fingers that the kid looks like their mom ‘cause I wouldn’t wish your ugly mug on anyone”

He purses his mouth, eyes cast down. Levity is Peter’s response to most things he doesn’t know how to deal with, so it’s a poor reaffirmation. His shoulders sag further.

“I’m sorry”

Not much more he can say. They know his motives, perhaps better than he does himself, and they know Janine. They know why he’s choosing this. Winston is the first one to speak after an awkward silence.

“Tiamat was lying”

“ _What?_ ” Egon finally looks up and finds Winston fishing for a cigarette inside his pockets.

“She was lying. She must’ave been” he finally finds what he’s looking for and fishes for the lighter next “Just toying with us- trying to keep us afraid forever. I refuse to believe any of us would raise a kid that would destroy this dimension- it’s impossible, I don’t buy it. Much less you and Janine. I mean, have you seen Janine with her niece and her little friends? She’s strict as a line, in the best way possible. I can’t see her actually raising someone who would destroy reality”

Ray extends him his own lighter and he thanks him with a nod before turning his cigarette on. The long drag he gives betrays how uneasy he really is, even if his tone pretends to be calm, and he lets the smoke escape his mouth in long ribbons before speaking again, perhaps finding his next words 

“That scaly freak was lying, I just know it. She probably knew this was coming and wanted to psych you out. We’re gonna be fine” he smiles, a bit hesitant, but it’s still a radiant smile “This is a good thing, OK? I’m saying: Congratulations, Egon. You’re gonna be a dad!” he extends his hand for him to shake and Egon does, hesitantly. He wishes he could be as certain as Winston says he is that Tiamat lied. He wishes he could explain to them how scared he is- on second thought and looking at Ray’s expression when he approaches to shake his hand vehemently, perhaps they know. Perhaps they’re doing what most people do to comfort each other when in fear, tell white lies and pray fate doesn’t make a liar out of them. Ray actually hugs him and pats his back. Past the initial fright, he seems almost happier than Egon himself.

 _Oh_.

That’s right. He hadn’t even stopped to think about it but... he’s happy. Despite everything, _he’s still happy_.

“Gentlemen” he says once Ray releases him. He swallows and actually grins “I’m going to be a father”

“ _Awright_!”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Break out the drinks!” Peter says, producing four beer cans out of the fridge “This calls for a toast”

They do toast (' _To Spengz and Janine and the little ankle-bitter... and seriously, I hope that kid takes after her, ‘cause-!'_ )

“Let’s be honest for a minute, too” Ray says, a twinkle in his eye once they’ve settled down around the table and the beer has contributed to warming the ambient up “If one of us were to produce an offspring with potential to destroy our dimension, that’s Peter”

All eyes turn to the alluded. He shrugs.

“Fair. Hell, for all we know there’s a couple of li’l heirs out there I just haven’t heard of”

“And hopefully, the mother’s genes were the dominant ones”

Peter blinks, then mock-throws his can at Egon among Ray and Winston’s frantic laughter.

“Smartass”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what else to say except thank you for reading this far and I hope you enjoyed the read. With some luck, I will introduce you to the little ankle-bitter sometime soon and you can know whether Tiamat was toying with everyone's minds or not.


End file.
